“Daddy had only just got into bed when, from the next room, a small voice called, "Hello?""What do you want?" Daddy demanded, perhaps a trifle less patiently than usual.There came a long silence. Then from a sleepy child came the reply, "I don't want anything 'cept I just want to know somebody is there."That is the cry of million of hearts, millions who feel they can manage along through life as long as there is someone to share it with.”

“Nobody ever feels just one way about another person, Margo. We're so much more complicated than that. I can see a million things you want from me, just like the million things I want from you. Some of them are wonderful. Some are awful. Some contradict each other, and some don't make sense at all. But none of those things matter, not really. What matters is what you do about them.”

“I just don't know," I said, my voice sounding bumby, not like mine, "how do you help someone who doesn't want your help. What do you do when you can't do anything?”

“One day I was speeding along at the typewriter, and my daughter - who was a child at the time - asked me, "Daddy, why are you writing so fast?" And I replied, "Because I want to see how the story turns out!”

“I want to stay," he admitted. "I haven't felt this way in a long time. I feel like ... like I came up from being underwater, and I can finally breathe. I don't want to stop feeling that way. That's how I know I have to leave.”

“Gary, if you want to play on this football team, you answer me when I ask you who's your Daddy. Who's your Daddy, Gary? Who's your Daddy?”